Page 13 of Saddles

When they head towards the deeper powder on the hill face, Pepper can’t keep up.

Damn it all.

I’m gonna have to let Mason know about this. If nothing else to file a report with Wade.

I peel off their trail and head back down the incline to check on the spooked herd.

A loud groaning draws me closer to the edge of the drop off.

Son of a bitch.

Looks like two got pushed over in the panic.

One is obviously dead, the other is mangled between some rocks at the bottom.

I gotta put it down. There’s no way to get it out, and I sure as hell am not going to let it suffer.

After tying Pepper off to a low bush, I cut around the south end to find a path into the canyon.

I’m going to kill those assholes, whoever they are.

Once the unpleasant deed is finished, I climb back up to find the rest of the cows seemingly settled down and eating again.

How am I going to be able to babysit them way out here?

I gotta tell Mason.

The snow is really starting to get heavy when I mount up and start heading to the cabin.

Wade can do a sweep of any buildings around here that those people might have come from.

We need to call out the fucking SWAT teams and put whoever it is in the ground.

God damn, this storm chose now to pick up?

I’m only halfway, but it’s blowing so hard I can’t see. Giving Pepper the reins, I hope she remembers the way.

After nearly an hour of freezing gales, it’s nearly too dark to even distinguish the trees. I manage to pull out the GPS with my stiff fingers, to discover we’re only minutes away from home.

“Good girl.” I pat her neck when the outline of the barn appears out of the night.

I can barely feel my toes when I hop down. Hitting the battery operated lamp next to the stall, I manage to get her saddle off and get her fed in record time. By the time I get her wiped down enough to be dry, I’m dropping anything I try to hold.

“Jesus, Roscoe. There’s almost eight inches. We’re gonna be shoveling tomorrow.” Pushing my way through the deepening powder, I kick it away from the door so I don’t track a bunch inside.

It’s just as cold in here as it is out there.

I gotta get the fire going first. I can’t call Mason if I can’t feel my fingers.

Tinder. Kindling.

Where’s the damn lighter?

The little one with the roller keeps slipping out of my grasp.

It takes a minute, but I finally find the long one with the trigger.

Watching the tiny flame take hold, I feed a few splinters to it until it grabs hold of the bigger chunks.

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